


Ambush

by Writes_by_Night



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Double Penetration, Gang Rape, Genital Torture, Graphic Rape, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Molestation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Omega Legolas, Painful Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Virgin Legolas, Watersports, tripple penetration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writes_by_Night/pseuds/Writes_by_Night
Summary: Legolas calls for Tauriel to follow and then runs after the orcs.  He really should have made sure she followed.Warning:  This story is DARK.  It includes graphic rape and torture.





	Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own and am not associated with The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. I make no money from this.
> 
> Warning: This is Dark and Graphic. Darker than my other stories because the orcs on no level care about Legolas; they want to hurt him and they do. The Legolas of this story is depicted as an immature omega (which in this case means he is male but has a vagina and reproduction organs). He is also, despite being in every other way an adult, still sexually immature. So the orcs in this story capture, torture, and gang rape an underage child. They intend to kill Legolas, and the only reason they don't do it outright is they enjoy imagining his kin finding him alive and being unable to save him. Now...whether they have underestimated elven medicine or not remains to be seen...if I ever get around to writing the second chapter.

Legolas made a noise when his legs were forced apart.  It was part frightened whimper and part enraged snarl, and he could no more have stopped the noise from coming out than he could have escaped the iron grips holding him to their liking.  He would have dearly liked to do both, to remain stoic and calm and to escape and kill them all.  He could do neither.

Tauriel was dead.  It was the only explanation for how this ambush came about.  He had called her to follow and he had pursued the orcs and somehow they were all around him and the trees, evil in this glade, shouted no warnings but laughed at his plight when he fell.  And there was no other elf at his back, no lifelong companion and shield maiden who always had his back.  He was alone.  She must be dead.

He expected them to mock him with her mutilated body.  He expected torture and death.  He glared defiantly at the monstrously huge orc, intending to fight to the last, whatever they did to him.  Whatever they had done to his friend.

“Brave little elfling,” the orc said, in common, but he his voice so twisted by the darkness within him that even the common tongue sounded like a curse on his lips.  The orc had come up to him, and Legolas had cringed away in spite of himself, and the orc laughed.  He leaned in close, breathing deeply, as though scenting him.  Legolas himself tried not to breathe.  Every breath brought the stench of orcs, and this one smelled especially revolting, as though it bathed in something rotten.  It seemed the orc found something more pleasant in the elf, for he breathed in deeply again, his nose almost burrowing into the elf’s neck, and Legolas shuddered from revolt and tried to twist away.  He couldn’t escape the orcs holding him in place, at least five pairs of hands holding firmly to his arms, his legs, crowding him, clawed fingers gripping and twisting cruelly, wanting to bruise, to break.

“An omega?” murmured the orc into his ear in a parody of intimacy.  “And your daddy lets you run around by yourself?  You’re not even ripe yet.  Delightful.”

The orc had pulled back then, but any relief from the change in positions was ended by the orcs next words.

“Strip him.  Strip away every last garment.”

In many ways, Legolas was a seasoned warrior.  He had been fighting against the darkness encroaching in his forest for the entirety of his life, it seemed.  He had heard stories of the atrocities committed by dark creatures and he knew pain and he thought he knew what was to come.

In some rather important ways, Legolas was very, very young.  Old enough to fight, to become skilled and experienced at fighting, in the same way that a twelve year old human might be old enough to take on a job, but still be called a child.  And though it hadn’t seemed it to him, in some ways he was very sheltered and very naïve.

Knives and claws tore at his garments, the hands on him seeming to multiply times ten.  There were hands everywhere, cruel hands that scratched at his skin, and squeezed, and tugged.  He struggled against them, and elves are strong, he was strong, but somehow they were stronger.  There were too many of them, and they had all the advantages, and within moments the horrible sea of hands and claws pulled away again, leaving him completely exposed, every last bit of armor and garment torn away.

In spite of this, in spite of the way some of the hands had touched him in places that were intimate and not theirs to touch, he still didn’t know what to expect.  He knew that he was an omega male, and that meant he had a penis and a vagina, but he was too young still to consider the significance of that.  Too young to have his first heat, to consider his peers as more than friends.  He daydreamed, of course, about what it would be like when he had a mate, and sometimes in secret that mate was someone he knew, like Tauriel, but sex wasn’t even a part of his daydreams.

He thought they’d removed his clothes to more easily hurt him.  Perhaps they would whip him or beat him, or burn him.  Mutilate him.  He could think of a hundred tortures, but not the one they actually did.

“Open his legs,” the orc ordered.  And his legs were parted wide and held, so his most intimate places were on full display.  Legolas had never been particularly modest, but having someone stare at him with such a…a hungry and cruel look was uncomfortable and he dreaded to know what they’d do next.

What the orc did was go down on his knees and bring his face right up close to Legolas’s most intimate parts and he took in a deep breath.  Legolas still didn’t understand what it was doing, not even when he felt something hot and wet rubbing against his omega cunt and he realized it was the orc’s tongue and the orc was licking him between his legs, and then sucking on his skin.  It didn’t hurt, but it felt so strange and wrong and he had no choice but to lie there in the orcs’ arms and let the alpha orc’s mouth slobber and suckle his private regions.

He could feel the lips, hot and moist, almost like a kiss, and they closed around his penis and sucked, hard, as though the orc intended to suck it right off and slurp it down.  He felt the ghost of teeth nibbling at his shaft and he couldn’t hold back a whimper as he waited for the teeth to clamp down and bit it off.  Instead, the mouth released him and let the little prick fall free, glistening from saliva, and the lips mouthed his cunt instead, and his tongue licked aggressively, and prodded and then Legolas gasped as he felt it go inside him.

The other orcs cheered him on, urging obscene actions in their own tongue that hurt the elf’s ears, and fingers returned to touch his skin, claws delicately caressing over his nipples, fingers pinching his sensitive ears, orc teeth nibbling at his neck.  Some of it hurt, some of it, in other circumstances, might have felt nice, and that was almost worse than the hands that hurt, and the whole time a tongue pushed inside his tight virgin hole, dipping in and out, gently at first but then more aggressively, and it felt so wrong and horrible he wanted to be sick.

Some of the orcs taunted in common, just to be certain the elf knew exactly what lewd things they were saying.

“He’s going to fuck your little virgin cunt,” rasped out an eager voice.

“We’re going to beat you inside and out.”

“Just wait ‘til we break you open.  We’re going to ruin your hole.  You’ll be nothing but a broken little orc whore when we finish.”

Finally, the face pulled away.

“Baby omega elf.  Nothing tastes sweeter,” said the orc.  “Except maybe baby omega elf blood.”  And he plunged one of his fingers into Legolas’s hole.

That wasn’t merely wrong and uncomfortable.  That hurt.  The claw broke through something inside and pushed in much deeper than the tongue had, and it felt so big inside him, so deep.  Legolas couldn’t hold back the startled shriek of pain and horror and the orc grinned, enjoying the elf’s pain, enjoying his horror, and the finger pulled out than slammed back in, again and again, forcing the virgin passage to take it, rubbing his insides raw and clawing at sensitive walls, and Legolas wanted to remain strong in the face of torture, he really did, but this was so different, so much worse than anything he had expected that he started to cry without meaning to and couldn’t seem to stop.

When the orc saw that, his grin widened and he raped the hole even more viciously with his finger, looking forward to when he utterly broke the elf, to when he buried himself in that hole all the way and destroyed it.

Finally he pulled his finger all the way out.  It was glistening wet, mostly with young elven blood, and the orc stuck his finger into his mouth and suckled the sweet elf blood and moaned in anticipation and lust.

When he finally freed his cock from his loin cloth, Legolas could only stare through teary eyes in horror and shock at the monstrous, misshapen thing the orc intended to force into the same place he’d just had his finger, his tongue.

The elf had no illusions left about what was coming, not after how the orcs had taunted him, not after he’d been molested, but it still didn’t seem possible.  The orc’s cock was too big to fit, for one.  It was at least a foot long, and as thick as a young tree branch, perhaps as thick as his own arm, too thick.  The finger had felt too big; he didn’t want to know what that thing would feel like.  It was ugly to look at too; as malformed as any other part of an orcs anatomy, lumpy and grotesque and pulsing, jutting up proud and erect.

“Are you ready to feel a real alpha’s cock?” asked the orc.  “Poor unripe little elfling.  You’re going to feel me inside you for the rest of your life.  You’ll feel it still when your soul flees.  Every other elf will look at you and know you spread your legs and invited an orc inside and my seed will become a part of you forever.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Legolas whimpered, not meaning to speak but unable to help it any more than he could stop his tears.  “ _Please…don’t_.”

The orc groaned at those words, the pleading tone only increasing the fire in his groin, and all around him, Legolas could hear groans and moans as the orcs enjoyed themselves watching their master defile the elfling.  The alpha crawled on top of him, heavy and hot, and looked him in the eyes, drinking in his fright and horror, all show of defiance long gone.  The orc looked him in the eyes, and Legolas felt something hot and hard and slightly moist against his privates, and the orc grabbed his hips in a crushing grip and he _pushed_.

Legolas screamed in agony as the orc forced himself inside.  It was just the head, but it was so wide, and that area was already raw and cut to ribbons and it was too much, and the orc rammed forward again, and now he was in deeper than the finger had gone, than anything had ever gone inside him, and he still wasn’t all the way in, for the elf was so tight it was impossible to go all the way in one go.  The orc didn’t stop trying though, and with each strong thrust Legolas could feel the hot shaft deeper and deeper inside of him.  It hurt worse than anything he’d experienced in his life, but that wasn’t why he screamed, and screamed again, and sobbed.  It was the sheer wrongness of an orc being inside him, and still the orc burrowed deeper and deeper until the full length pressed inside and Legolas could feel the orc’s balls against his flesh.

For a long moment the orc held still, savoring the elf’s agony, its utter defeat, the way it kept murmuring pleas and denials, the way the elf’s entire body shook against him.  The orc delighted in knowing he had the elf’s innocence.

Then, after that moment, he pulled out almost all the way, before thrusting his full length back in again.  Legolas screamed, his insides felt battered and shredded already, and the orc did it again, and then again, for long minutes, trying to make the elf’s first rape last as long as possible, to prolong the pain, but soon the orc decided he’d held back long enough with these slow hard, deep thrusts, and Legolas groaned as strong hands crushed his hips and then the orc just hammered into him as hard and fast as he could.

Legolas felt the cock beating his hole with vicious fury and he wailed and struggled to escape but he was held too tightly.  Even if every orc but the one raping him had let him go, he was held too securely, and those orcs didn’t let him go but howled with pleasure and molested every part of him, pinching nipples and tickling under his arms and twisting his ears.  Some of what they did was extremely painful, but he hardly noticed just then, for the pain in his young hole was so excruciating there wasn’t room to feel anything else.

And still the orc fucked him, and it went on and on, not slowing down or gentling, but hammering into him deep and hard, like a fist punching his gut from the inside, and the hard and lumpy skin tore his passage and he could feel his own blood leaking from his hole.  Finally, the orc threw back his head and howled in triumph and pleasure, holding himself as deep inside the elf as he could go, and hot seed flooded Legolas’s young womb in spurt after spurt, until his belly bulged from the amount, the thick cock sealing it inside him.

For long minutes after, the orc lay heavily over him, panting and enjoying the sensations.  Legolas continued to cry, his body shaking, his soul filled with horror and disgust, and for the first time he began to understand what was whispered about among his kin, of elves so ill-used and tortured that they faded away and willed themselves across the sea.  If he knew how to escape his own body in that moment, he would have.  He felt contaminated by the foul creature using him, and wrong, and the pain was more than he ever thought it possible to feel.

And the orc slid itself free, and the other orcs cheered and taunted and continued their assault, and there was no escape, not by rescue, not by fleeing to the Halls of Mandos, not even through unconsciousness.  He could not will his own mind away.  He had no choice but to endure.

“Do you think you bear my spawn now, elfling?  I filled you well enough.”

Legolas shuddered at the very idea, though he did know enough of biology to know that wasn’t possible.  Not only was he too young, but elves have a unique ability in choosing whether or not they wish to conceive, and Legolas had no such wish.  The orc laughed, studying his handiwork with a cruel leer.  The tight virgin hole was now gaping, dripping blood and semen.  The hips were also deeply bruised, the thighs marred by many cruel hands, nipples red and bitten and sore, shoulder and neck fairly savaged, once pristine hair now a halo of unkempt braids.  The orc could see the devastation in the elf’s eyes, still wet and glistening from tears, wide from shock and horror and terror, all defiance lost.  The orc drank in the sight of this young child warrior and he grinned.  The other orcs enjoyed the defiled elf as well, eagerly waiting their chance to join in the fun.

“Shall we have a go?” one asked.  “Let’s pass the little whore around and fill him ‘til he bursts!”

The other orcs cheered, but the alpha merely looked thoughtful.

“I don’t think our elfling is hurting enough yet,” he answered.  “First, let’s beat his cunt and stripe his thighs and make him squeal.  Then he’ll really scream when your rods beat his insides raw.”

The orcs cheered this proposal as well, and several scrambled about, calling for whips and paddles and canes, while Legolas squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself free.  As such, he didn’t actually see what was finally chosen when, without warning, agony exploded across his most sensitive region.  He screamed out in agony, half convinced they’d chosen a knife held first in a fire as their implement, for that is what it felt like.  There is no place on an omega’s body that hurt more when it was hit, and the region was already sore and abused and raw.

“Spank the baby elf!” orcs urged and goaded and cheered.  “Harder!  Smack its cunt until it’s purple!  Until it’s black!  Beat its dick until it falls off!  Stripe its thighs!  Beat its hole!  Harder!  Harder!”

And the pain came a second time in the same place, and then a third, and Legolas’s throat felt raw from screaming and he did not think it possible to experience greater pain, and then he was struck again and found he was wrong, and there was no escape, no pause, it was pain on top of pain on top of pain.

Whatever was beating him hit his prick next, and then the inside of his thighs, and his groin still hurt and his most private and intimate places felt bathed in acid for they burned and bled and the orcs kept shouting ‘harder!’ and eager hands clawed at his skin, wanting to join in the torture, and if Legolas hadn’t been an elf he’d have passed out long ago, perhaps even died, but elves are hardy creatures and never had this elf hated that more, for the torture went on and on.

Cruel hands parted his butt cheeks at crueler suggestions, and something slashed his hole again and again, and all the while his hair was pulled and ears twisted and nipples pinched and skin punched and squeezed and clawed and he never felt less of a warrior in his life for he could do nothing in return but sob and beg and take it all.

“Now,” said the alpha orc, “Hold him steady because I’m really going to spank him hard.”

And true to his words, something large and hard slammed against Legolas’s sensitive private places with so much force he might have been torn from the orcs’ hands if they hadn’t been braced for it.  And it wasn’t just one hard blow, but a sudden rain of them, hard and fast and cruel, raining over every inch of his privates but centering mostly on his gaping, recently raped hole.

The pain was well beyond any the elf had ever experienced, any that he could bear.  The orc put his full strength behind the blows, and the others cheered him on, not that Legolas was aware of much beyond PAIN.  The agony was too complete for any other thought, for any other sensation.  It was too big even for an elf’s strength, and at last, though not before he was forced to endure long minutes of intense torture, Legolas managed to escape by going utterly limp in their arms, his consciousness fleeing.

He awoke again into a nightmare as liquid fire was forced down his throat.  The orcs knew their business of torture well, and their prize wasn’t going to escape again that way.

Everything hurt, the entirety of his body.  He felt pummeled inside and out, trampled and ruined and desecrated.  He wanted out.  Out of the ring of evil trees that cheered his pain.  Out of the ring of monstrous deformed orcs who lusted for his pain.  Out of his ruined body.  Out.

A deep, inner part of himself that wasn’t preoccupied by horror and pain worried about Tauriel, and what they must have done to her so they could get to him.  He worried about his father.  How he would react to find his son so defiled.  And he was angry.  Because the orcs weren’t just hurting Legolas, but in hurting him were also hurting people Legolas loved.  And anger was better than sorrow or fear, but it wasn’t enough, and the pain and horror overshadowed all and there was no escape.

And the orcs weren’t done with him yet.

“Poor baby elf,” said the alpha, “Did I spank you too hard?  Well, here’s something harder.”

And he thrust his renewed erection into the elf’s hard beaten cunt, impaling him utterly in one hard thrust.  Legolas screamed in shock and horror and pain, and then the orc rutted in him at a furious pace.

Enough time had passed since the first rape for some small healing to occur, but this tore through that and opened all wounds anew and battered new ones and punched his insides with brutal force.  And no matter how bad it hurt, no matter how hard he was battered, there was no approach to unconsciousness, no escape into darkness.  Legolas endured and endured and wished he didn’t.  He didn’t think of his father’s pain, or his people, but only being free of this monster and his monstrous deeds, and still he endured and cried and screamed until he had no voice left to protest with.

The orc moaned and howled in pleasure as he used the young elf’s body, and did all in his power to increase the elf’s pain and make it suffer, for every rough, hoarse cry forced from the elf’s lips increased the orc’s pleasure again and he’d fuck the elf even harder and faster until finally he couldn’t contain his seed any longer and emptied himself deep into the elf’s ruined womb, filling his belly to bursting, making him take every last drop inside.

For a long moment, Legolas lay beneath the orc, feeling the full length inside him, his insides raw and bruised and broken, his belly bulging, and he felt utterly destroyed and broken and he was quite certain things could never get worse from that moment.

When he felt something rushing inside of him, hot and too much, as though the orc was coming again, he found he was wrong.

“I just pissed in your womb,” the orc whispered gently into his ear.  “Can you feel the hot orc piss inside you?  Your belly’s so big it’s like there’s a babe in there.  I could be pissing on your baby, if you weren’t still a baby yourself.  And now I’ve had my turn, I’m going to let them have theirs.  They’re going to rape every hole you have again and again and again.  And when we’re satisfied, we won’t kill you, oh no.  We’ll send you’re ruined body back to mommy and daddy so they can see what they let happen to their baby omega when they left him all alone.  Everyone is going to know you’re an orc whore.”

And the orc pulled out of him and stood away, not seeming to care that his dick was dirty with elf blood.

“Have at him!  Fuck his holes raw!” he said, and the orcs cheered and dove for the elf, fighting for a hole or, failing that, a chance to rut against his skin.  To Legolas, it felt like a sudden avalanche of hands and teeth and bodies.  Almost quicker than it seemed possible, a new orc dick was ramming into his cunt.  It was smaller than the lead alpha’s, but the violation was just as horrible and that area was so abused and sensitive it still hurt quite badly.  And then without warning another dick rammed into his anus, where nothing had gone before, and even as he opened his mouth to scream a dick was shoved down his throat.  The three orcs who had managed to get his holes rutted hard, but there were others, he felt something grotesque poking and rubbing at his ear, skin rubbing against his feet, both hands forced to grasp something hard.

Every inch of his body it seemed was being raped at the same time, the worst being where his body was actually invaded but none of him was spared.  All three holes; his cunt, his anus and his throat were on fire, and he couldn’t scream or plead or move as they used his body hard and cruelly and painfully.  He felt hot cum forced deep inside his cunt, and the dick pulled away at last, only to immediately be replaced by a new one that rammed in at a new angle with a different size and a different length and there was no getting used to it and there was no passing out, and there was no escape.

Soon a new dick replaced the old in his anus, and then down his throat, only this one just rested its dick on his tongue and pissed in his mouth and made him swallow it, and then a new dick rammed in so deep it was hard to breathe and for long minutes he almost hoped it would choke him and he’d escape, but the orc came and pulled out instead and another took its place, and cum splattered over his body from countless dicks and into his ear and up his nose and coated his hair and scratches and bites and filled his insides until he was utterly defiled and so lost in disgust and horror and pain as it went on and on without stop that he barely even noticed when the hoards eventually lost some of their desperate frenzy and the bodies rubbing against him began to thin.

The raping of his holes didn’t slow in the least, but the first wave of their lust had been sated and now they were more willing to wait their turn in defiling one of his holes, rather than spending themselves on his skin, though several continued to molest him and pinch and scratch while they waited.  Legolas felt it all, and tasted their filth on his tongue, and felt their filth inside him, and everything hurt and went on hurting and he was so lost inside the ongoing nightmare that he no longer even fought.  They could have let him go completely and he wouldn’t have run.  They raped his mouth and it didn’t even cross his mind to fight back by biting down.  He was exhausted in his soul and he his body took everything they did and his soul pulled away as deeply as it was possible to go.  It wasn’t enough.  He could still feel and knew all that happened, but at the same time he lost in himself and no longer there.

He heard when the orcs whispered words in their dark, twisted language just to feel him cringe away.  He heard when they told him how loose he was.  And he felt it when they decided they’d have a better ride if they doubled up in his loose whore cunt, but first decided to keep his anus full and stuffed something large and rough inside him so he’d still be raped there even as the next orc joined another in rutting in his vaginal hole.

He screamed noiselessly, and his eyes rolled back in his head when they both took him at once, too full especially with whatever was stuffed in his other hole, but he didn’t pass out, couldn’t pass out, couldn’t will himself to just die, and they raped him on and on, and on.

Finally, the orc using his throat pulled free and no new dick took its place, but two orcs still fucked his cunt just as savagely as ever, new dicks still replacing the spent ones, and the elf could feel all their seed inside him, deep inside and leaving him too full, and he could still taste orc on his tongue, and if he had the energy and will he’d have been sick, but he did nothing but lie where they moved him and let them fuck him and fuck him until he must have been raped at least a hundred times and dawn was approaching.

Then instead of two fucking him it was only one, using his anus because he said it was cleaner than his dirty, ruined cunt.  And then Legolas lay on the ground, and no orcs touched him, and he didn’t leap up or fight or run.  He lay as still as one dead, though he breathed and his eyes were open and he was still aware.  His body didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

The alpha came to him again.  He looked down at the ruined youth, saw the pain and horror and brokenness that filled him, and the alpha grinned, his lust awakening anew as he imagined the elf’s kin finding the child so defiled, and their horror and agony, and if only he could stay and see that, nothing would be sweeter, but knowing it was to come would have to be enough.

“I’m going to rape you one last time,” the alpha told him.  “And I’m going to plug your ruined holes and make you hold all our seed and something else, that will feel like fire inside you, and you will lie here in pain until your kin come to take you home.  And they won’t be able to clean you or fix you but they will see you as a ruined orc whore and know how they failed a child and let us ruin you.”

And the orc mounted the elf again, larger again than all the other orcs, not wider perhaps than two taking him at once but much longer, and Legolas lay with his legs spread as that massive cock rammed into him a third time and beat his insides and defiled his womb.  The elf had been raped non-stop for so long that he would have thought one more rape wouldn’t much matter, but somehow this orc was worse than all the others, and the pain just that much more, and he didn’t react or scream, but tears flowed from his eyes as he was used yet again, and he could almost feel something inside him, inside his soul, break beyond repair.

The orc came and he came hard and deep, and after he pulled out, he immediately punched his fist directly into the elf’s cunt.  The elf gasped at the action, beyond screaming or begging but not so far gone he didn’t feel what was happening.  Something was in the orc’s fist, shoved deep to plug up the elf’s womb, and that done, the orc played for a bit, fucking the elf’s hole with his fist, clawing his insides, but finally he pulled out, and Legolas could feel something large left inside, and all the seed making his belly bulge was trapped inside him, just as the orc had promised.

If he thought the ordeal was over then, he was wrong, for the alpha ordered the elf raised up, upside down with his legs spread to show his gaping hole.  He took a bottle and poured something inside him, and the liquid burned like fire, and it was poured into his anus, and something horrifically large was stuffed in his holes, sealing the fire inside.

And then he was left, naked and ruined and stuffed full upon the forest floor.  And the orcs went on their way.

He was alone, only dark trees to whisper taunts, and he should have sat up, pulled the plugs from his body, found water to cleanse himself, found other elves to help him, returned to his father.

He did not move.  His body hurt beyond endurance, and he no longer could claim it as his own and so he did not move it, not even to try and release some of the pain that burned through his intimate places.  He lay as one already dead, but he was not, and he still suffered and he still endured.


End file.
